


Undercover Boss

by MelissaBosquez



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Have a cluckity cluck cluck time reading this!, He likes the f word okay?, Mr. Cluck's Chicken Shack, Rating for Gold's potty mouth, Undercover Boss AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 04:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11615427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelissaBosquez/pseuds/MelissaBosquez
Summary: Undercover Boss Rumbelle AU: Life was great for, Mr. Cluck's Chicken Shack, CEO Aiden Gold. At least until he finds himself roped into a reality show where bosses go undercover in their own companies to find out how their businesses are really being run. Gold nearly gives up when he is paired with a young Manager named Belle who teaches him what's really important in life and work.





	Undercover Boss

**Author's Note:**

> Special shout out to AnonymousNerdGirl for encouraging this little plot bunny and also to ShipperQueen93 for doing me the great honor of Beta reading. :D

If there was one thing that Mr. Gold hated more than normal social interaction then it had to be forced social interaction on a reality television program. Oddly specific he knew, but given his current situation it was understandable.

Wearily, he pulled the hotel room key from his wallet and frustratingly had to insert the key three times before the damn green light would come on and grant him entry. He trudged inside the darkened three star quality hotel room with a great sigh and quickly peeled off the hot wig from his head and threw it onto the bathroom counter as he passed by. It was part of his contract with the show that he not remove any of his altered costume or break character until he was back in the hotel room for the evening, lest he be spotted. Spotted by who or what he had no fucking idea, but he believed that the producers delighted in making this as antagonistic as possible for him.

He ran a hand through his short sweat filled strands as he collapsed backwards onto his bed. He could deal with the beard that he had had to grow out, he had the odd one from time to time throughout his life but the low quality, polyester monstrosity was another thing. It was hot and itchy and he looked fucking ridiculous. When he had first been presented to his 17 year old son in his new transformation, Neal had laughed hysterically and questioned why he had roadkill on his head.

The glasses he wore were actually his own. He didn’t need them all the time but they were particularly useful reading the fine print of his dealings. He pulled those off and folded them, gently tossing them on the nightstand. Gold pinched the bridge of his nose where the glasses left their mark and gently massaged the area. A headache would be coming, he knew, as it had every night since he’d been forced onto this television show.

* * *

 

It all started several months back when his Public Relations Manager, Ursula Finn, had come to him with a proposition. A popular reality show, Bosses Undercover, had approached them to appear on the show. A higher up from their corporate ladder would go undercover in their chain of restaurants, Mr. Cluck’s Chicken Shack, and work with their everyday employees to gain insight into the front lines of the business. Both she and the Chief Talent Officer, Ella Deville, thought it was a brilliant idea, and a great way to increase their public image and moral.

Gold didn’t think it could hurt. He had been with the company for around 7 years now, and though their numbers were generally good and they were consistently named one of the top chicken joints in the US, he knew there was always room for improvement. It wasn’t until after he’d already signed off on the venture, (he’d left his glasses at home that day), that he realized that  _ he  _ would in fact be the boss going undercover.

“Well, it couldn’t be either of us, darling,” Ella had drolled, leaning back against his desk. “We are the beautiful faces of the company. We visit the stores on occasion. Too many people know us and see us.”

“You on the other hand,” Ursula picked up, “You are a virtual ghost. You’ve been here forever but aside from us and the people on this floor, I don’t think anyone even knows what you look like. You’re more recognizable by your signature in the monthly memos than visually,” she laughed and Ella nodded in agreement.

Gold had groaned realizing that there was no way out. This was one deal he made that he truly hadn’t understood. The women carried on laughing at his misery and thinking up all of the terrible jobs that he would be forced to do and worse yet, the horrible disguises they could come up with.

“You know...they’ll probably make you wear…” Ursula paused, a glint of laughter in her eyes. She leaned closer into Gold and whispered, “Jeans!”

“Ohhhhhh perish the thought!!!” Ella exclaimed, clutching at her heart and throwing herself back across Gold’s desk knocking off several items and howling in laughter.

Gold internally cringed. The thought of dressing down almost more terrifying than the fact he’d been stupid enough to sign off on something without reading the fine print. Ursula and Ella may be his only friends but he had seriously began thinking of all the different places he could hide their bodies.

* * *

 

His phone buzzed gently in his pocket and he groaned just knowing instinctively who it would be. He ignored it deliberately, not ready to go down that avenue yet. The day had already been too fucking long.

The filming that was done that day had been the most humiliating of them all. It had started out with a young know it all cashier named Killian Jones being his “trainer” for the day. He spent most of the day patronizing Gold as if he had never operated a cash register before, slowly walking him through every button and its function, going even slower on the self explanatory ones like, “Total.” As if speaking slowly wasn’t bad enough he also would often adapt his tone to speak louder than necessary when answering any of Gold’s questions drawing the attention of everyone around them.

He was less than an hour into filming when he wanted to throttle the man. While Gold ended up doing all the work Killian flashed his smile and batted his eyelashes at every female under 40, striking up conversations and inviting them to see his houseboat on the harbor. Anytime that the line would get backed up Jones would placate the line of customers by reminding them that the elderly needed jobs too and to give Grandad a break.

Gold could only scream internally and question for the millionth time why he had decided to give up smoking. A cigarette or two or three would have taken the edge off that he so delicately teetered on these days.

After the lunch rush, the producers decided that it would now be a good time to film the pair outside of the restaurant. Each episode featured one of these “intimate” scenes where the employee would spill their guts with their tragic background. Many of the people were genuine enough but Gold already had a feeling Jones was far less deserving than the others he had met along the way.

They headed outside to take out the trash with Gold doing the bulk of the work. Jones dragged his feet behind him and offered no assistance with the heavy bags.

Killian Jones was the worst kind of employee and so far nothing that he had said about his past in this “intimate session” made Gold feel anything but disgust for the man. He had after all seen the man in action all morning. He was the type of employee that made the general population look down on the customer service industry. He was the guy that accosted every woman he saw no matter how uneasy she seemed or who was with her. He was the guy that forgot to wash his hands and then handled your food without gloves. The employee that then later was caught sneaking chicken strips off the pass to eat himself or taking a bite and putting it back. Killian Jones was the employee that dropped your food and just picked it back up and served it to you with a smile.

Gold had stopped trying to feign interest until his own real name had been brought up in conversation, and how it was specifically his fault that he had been passed over for a shift leader promotion over the company’s stricter attendance policy.  “I miss a couple days without calling or come in an hour late and it’s as if the world has ended.” Gold rolled his eyes and really wanted to tell him that corporate and he especially had no hand in the appointment of individuals for smaller internal positions but he knew that wouldn’t matter.   

The ranting was far from over as he rattled on about the company’s core values; integrity, accountability, customer first, enjoying your work and one team one goal; and how unrealistic it was to expect the employees to follow this “code of honor.”

“Gold thinks that we should treat this menial job as some sort of a career instead of the low class slop it is. Take pride in what we do and how we do it. It’s fucking fast food, mate. There’s no pride in this. The guy is just another shit for brains corporate clown. No one’s even ever seen the guys face. Even he isn’t proud of this monstrosity. Why should we be?”

Gold was tempted to relieve the man from his job then and there but that would have meant breaking cover, and as much as he wanted to rip the sweltering wig from his head and dump it in the trash, it would just be a bigger pain in the end.

“Why stay then? If you hate it so much?” Gold had to wonder if it would it be too much to hope that perhaps the man had some redeemable quality in his background. Working to support an ill parent maybe, or to put himself through college?

“Well, mate, between you and I, I’m only working here for awhile longer. I have a band on the side. Perhaps you have heard of us. Hook and the Jolly Rogers?” he questioned with the self importance only youth could bring. Gold just quirked a brow and kept his face impassive.

After a moment Jones growled and finished his thoughts.“Well, I suppose I can’t expect the leader of the geriatric society to know anything about music, but we’re  _ this _ close to signing a deal with Midas records. When we do I’ll burn this place to the ground. Til’ then though, this place is just a means to an end. I take some buckets of chicken with me, maybe pull in some off the record tips for my services rendered and call it a day.”

Gold focused on one of the garbage bags still between them, processing all the information this idiot had not only told him but the camera crews as well and felt a smile quirk over his lips. The reveal show could not come soon enough.

“Did you say Midas Records? As in Stefan Midas?” Gold asked, lifting the bag up and tossing it into the open dumpster.

Jones eyed him warily. “Yes,” he spoke softly drawing out the word. “Why?”

“Oh, no reason. My son and I are fans of some of their artists. You see in between my early dinners and naps at the retirement home, they sometimes let me out for recreational activities like concerts and such. I was just having a hard time imagining Midas and company willing to diminish the quality of their content and reputation with some petty thief and his rag tag gang.”

To Jones credit he took Gold’s comments without much much of an outward reaction. His eyes registered the insult but he just smiled back at Gold with his bright, bleached teeth, a predatory edge in the corner of his grin.

“Here, mate, let me help you with that last bag,” he said reaching for the large trash bag in Golds hand. Before Gold could decline he pulled a small pocket knife from his trousers and slit a hole in the side of the bag spilling its contents across the pavement. “Whoops, would you look at that? Better get that cleaned up straightaway,” he laughed and dashed back across to the restaurant.

Gold let loose a string of profanities so immense in their detailing that he knew that the scene would have to be heavily edited if not cut all together. The nerve of the bastard. He was still fuming ten minutes later after he had finally gotten all the chicken bones and assorted trash up. He slammed open the back door uncaring of who he startled and made a beeline to Jones, who was chatting up a young looking blonde at the front counter.

“Hey, mate.” Gold bumped into Jones harshly. “Do you have a problem with me? Why don’t you come back outside with me for another little chat and I can tell you exactly how I feel about you and your pathetic little life.” He shoved at Killian’s shoulder again and this time he shoved back but Gold stood his ground. The customers had all began to turn their heads and gather to watch the conflict. The cameramen were practically in the men’s faces, excited to finally catch some action.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,  _ mate. _ Perhaps you should head on back to the retirement home for your early dinner and a nap. Maybe then you won’t be such a crotchety old man,” Jones hissed back.

Gold would have punched him then and there but they had been broken up by the store manager Sydney Glass. The men were brought back to the office where he spoke to them calmly about how they were improperly representing Mr Cluck’s franchise and lectured them on teamwork and character, using phrases like “One team, one goal.” as he brought up the restaurant's core values. Gold genuinely liked Sydney, he seemed a fair man, but he didn’t appreciate the lecture at all.

“We just simply put cannot have this level of behavior out on the floor in front of customers. Carl,” he addressed Gold and it took a moment for Gold to remember his alias. “I know that we were going to have you working with Killian the rest of the day but under the circumstances I think that it may be best to separate you for the duration. Especially, considering we are due for a corporate visit today.” Sydney folded his hands over his desk and stared at the men like a principal breaking up a schoolyard fight.

“Corporate visit?” Gold questioned, hoping this didn’t mean what he thought it did.

“Yes, we received a call this morning that Ursula Finn and Ella Deville will be making a stop to our store this afternoon. They wanted to see how our team was getting along with this Job Swap show and observe some of the filming. You can see now why this behavior is especially unsavory,” he concluded.

“Of course they’re visiting,” Gold mumbled under his breath.

“I’m sorry?”

“I said of course it’s unsavory, and I apologize.” Gold covered and extended his hand to Sydney. Sydney took it without hesitation and then shook Killian’s too.

“Glad we are back on the same page. Now about the new job we’ll have you do...how tall are you, Mr. Benton?”

* * *

Gold’s phone buzzed again in his pocket and he groaned. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone?

He pulled the phone out and unlocked it with a quick swipe of his finger, the home screen indicating two new messages. One of them was from Neal telling him good night and that he loved him. He quickly responded back with the same and let him know he was sorry he hadn’t called and he’d speak with him in the morning.

The next message was a picture message from Ella and he already knew without opening what it would be. He contemplated deleting it without ever looking but he knew it would drive him crazy if he didn’t verify the monstrosity with his own eyes. With great reluctance, he opened the message was assaulted with the self portrait that Ella and Ursula had taken with him during their “surprise” visit.

They stood on either side of him with biggest grins. He was pretty sure that Ella even had tears in her eyes from her barely contained laughter. Right in the fucking middle was Gold in the yellowest, feathery, and hotter than the sands of hell chicken suit. Sydney’s job had been to spend his remaining time drawing in customers in the sweltering July heat and handing out coupons.

Underneath the photo was a single caption.

_ Have a cluckity, cluck, cluck night, Aiden! _

Gold text back furiously sending nothing but dozens of knife emojiis and Ella responded back immediately with a winky face and a kiss. Gold just sighed and plugged the phone into the charger beside the bed and set his alarm for 545am.

He pulled the yellow uniform shirt over his head and angrily tossed it into the corner as he headed in to take a shower.

“One more day,” he whispered to himself looking in the mirror feeling older than all of his years. One more day of this madness and he’d be free. Well, technically. He still had the reveal show and wrap up but at least then he could finally be himself and not some fool nearly dying of heat stroke on the corner telling all the people to have a cluckity, cluck, cluck day.

That motto would be the first thing to go, he promised.  In fact he was pretty sure it had started as a joke by Ella in the first place before somehow managing its way into their marketing campaign.

He took his time in the shower, washing the smell of chicken, grease and sweat from his body, using copious amounts of soap and body wash to be sure the smell didn’t linger. The inside of the suit had been the worst. He wasn’t sure when the last time was that the thing had been dry cleaned but certainly not in recent memory. It reeked of sweat and body odor, making him gag whenever he breathed in too deeply. The suits would be the second thing to go. No human should have to degrade themselves like that, advertising be damned.

When he was satisfied he no longer smelled like the rotting insides of that yellow suit he got out and dressed for bed. Exhaustion finally took its toll as he collapsed back onto the bed and pulled the covers up, reaching a hand out to switch off the bedside light.

The next day would be easier. At least he didn’t have to make a mad dash for a red eye across the country again. This time he’d be working at one of the company’s top stores just on the other side of the city. The work would be in management and his task was to work with the store manager to get an idea of what they were doing differently from their lower performing stores. What was the manager’s name? Something French he thought? He was too exhausted to remember as sleep slowly began to claim his weary mind, thoughts of dancing yellow chickens, fueling his nightmares.


End file.
